Page 59 of Don't Make Me Beg
“Now apologize for throwing food at me.”
Despite the effect his dreamy voice has on me, a squeal of laughter is the only response I can manage as I writhe beneath him, attempting to twist myself from his grip.
“You’re being difficult. Just say the word, and I’ll let you go,” he whispers, his warm breath on my neck sending a rush of goosebumps over my arms. I feel my nipples harden as my body purrs with excitement.
The word he’s referring to was something we used to say when we wanted the other to stop pretending and tell the truth.Thin Mints.It was a play on my being a Girl Scout and the fact that Luka hates all things mint chocolate chip. Though I’m finding it hard to believe he still remembers that…
I’m momentarily stunned as I’m suddenly aware of every inch of his skin that touches my own, aware of the thin fabric of his t-shirt that’s loosely risen up my stomach, aware that only a couple of inches of fabric are separating my bare breast from his view, and my sensitive nipples are practically begging to be touched. Aware of how I’ve all but wiggled out of his ginormous sweatpants, and that his hands are now gripping my bare skin.
My breathing is slower now as I heave deep breaths, feeling my blood rush to keep up with my body’s ever-growing urges. This little game just went from playfully innocent to something… not… in just a matter of seconds.
Luka must feel it too because I feel his grip on my hip loosen, replaced by the gentle caress of his thumb, that dips beneath the hem of the underwear I’m wearing.
I breathe in a gasp when he shifts on top of me, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. My traitorous body tilts my head to give him better access, as if she’s opening herself up to him all on her own.
“You stopped fighting me… does that mean you surrender?” he whispers against the shell of my ear, and then I feel his hard length pressed against my thigh.
The sound of another woman being murdered is drowned out by the rain, and somehow, all I can focus on is my pounding heartbeat in my ears. I should stop this… shouldn’t I? I could just say the word and he’d stop. It’s not like we haven’t played this game a million times before, but there is a part of me—my inner freak I suppose—that is curious about what would happen if I didn’t give in. What would he do then?
I think I get my answer when his thumb swipes beneath my underwear, this time stretching even lower than before. His other hand pins my wrist above my head as he stares down at me, his eyes searching mine for any signs of my discomfort.
My t-shirt rises a little higher as I heave a breath, feeling Luka’s eyes heat my skin as he watches me like a lion watches its prey. His eyes are dilated so large you can hardly see the green, and his nostrils flare like it’s taking a great deal of restraint to hold himself back.
“Say it, Scout,” he practically pleads, like he wants me to put him out of his misery, like he physically can’t do it without me telling him to.
“I…” I swallow the lump lodged in my throat and wet my lips. His eyes flash to my mouth, and I feel his thumb move over me again. This time, venturing even lower grazing the top of my freshly shaved mound.
His teeth clamp shut, and his muscles grow tighter when he realizes that new detail about me. The sight of his reaction does something to me, and I can’t imagine what it’d be like to watch him really touch me… or taste me.
No one’s ever done that to me before—not really anyway. Jimmy went down on me for about ten seconds one drunken night in college, but it was too sensitive; it almost hurt. Once he realized it wasn’t doing anything for me, he never offered to do it again.
I shake my head, realizing I’m once again thinking about Jimmy.
Luka’s voice is all gravel and lust when he says, “You’re killing me here, Scout. I’m begging you, say the word before I?—”
Before I what?
I guess I’ll never know, because before he can finish his sentence, a bolt of lightning strikes so close it lights up the whole room. A sharp crack of thunder follows, shaking the walls and rattling the windows.
Then everything goes black.
The silence between us is deafening. The only sounds are our uneven breaths. Nerves flutter in my stomach as tension coils through me.
Is he going to kiss me?
Do I want him to?
He exhales a heavy sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment… maybe a little of both, and then he slowly climbs off me.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you to bed. The emergency generator should kick on any minute now.”
Right on cue, the power flickers back to life, but the moment’s gone. And so is his cocky smirk. It’s as if whatever was building between us short-circuited with the lights, giving us a hard reset.
Disappointment scorches through me like a branding iron. I shouldn’t feel this way. He’s never promised me anything. But rejection has a way of wearing you down, and I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.
Sometimes, I just wish someone wanted me. Really wanted me. For me.
But I guess some things never change.
